Welcome to Adventu, your final fantasy rp haven. adventu focuses on both canon and original characters from different worlds and timelines that have all been pulled to the world of zephon: a familiar final fantasy-styled land where all adventurers will fight, explore, and make new personal connections.
at adventu, we believe that colorful story and plots far outweigh the need for a battle system. rp should be about the writing, the fun, and the creativity. you will see that the only system on our site is the encouragement to create amazing adventures with other members. welcome to adventu... how will you arrive?
year 5, quarter 3
Welcome one and all to our beautiful new skin! This marks the visual era of Adventu 4.0, our 4th and by far best design we've had. 3.0 suited our needs for a very long time, but as things are evolving around the site (and all for the better thanks to all of you), it was time for a new, sleek change. The Resource Site celebrity Pharaoh Leep was the amazing mastermind behind this with minor collaborations from your resident moogle. It's one-of-a-kind and suited specifically for Adventu. Click the image for a super easy new skin guide for a visual tour!
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[attr=class,upperlyric] The Dreams in the Witch House
[attr=class,bottomlyric] Then the traveler in the dark [break]thanks you for your little spark.
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Let’s start with deserted villages and haunted forests.@lala3
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[attr=class,bulk] Her predecessor had an errand. Or perhaps he needed a small break from his teaching her. Maybe even both. The young genome knew she was not easy to teach and would miss her dear mentor while he was away. When he flew too far a distance on Silver Dragon, she felt slightly disturbed at the disappearance of his presence. [break][break] If solitude meant feeling such an absence… [break][break] … [break][break] She turned to look at where she was in the forest. The mist was suffocating, but the dirt beneath her feet felt grounding. The decaying leaves crunched into broken twisted twigs. There was a winding dark path before her. Soft balls of light seemed to blink in and out as they weaved between the trees that rested along the path. Were they back out to greet her? It did not take them long to find her again. This location was the closest feeling to a ‘home’ she felt in a while. It was as if the Black Mage Village and the village of Bran Bal had quietly merged together in a soft union. [break][break] Only this time, the spirits didn’t sleep in sealed vats. [break][break] The path opened up into quite a sight. A run down village where nature seemed to have started to reclaim these man-made structures. There were supplies here that were no longer in use. The silence here seemed to loom in a suffocating manner. It was literally as if these people just up and left the place. And though this would be unnerving to most, Mikoto simply saw this place as a possibility of a new home. Maybe...if she found other genomes, she could bring them here? [break][break] For now, she observed the conditions of each home, curiously. The willow wisps seem to spring to life again, as if trying to play as they danced around her. One home was still mostly intact. At least, there were no signs of rot and the walls still seemed to hold steady. There was spares furnishing, but Mikoto was used to minimalist designs. She did not need much to be comfortable. [break][break] Dried herbs hung not only from the ceiling, but also shut tight inside jars that lined the shelves. Dusty tomes had fallen over on their side and some tools that needed polishing were left in a basin under the desk. This place would do well enough. She would have to look for tools to help clean up the mess here. [break][break] In the meantime, she went to the center of the village to find what seemed to be a place with already gathered wood in a pit. How it got there was beyond her. But she took to her magic and sparked enough for a fire to start. She took a seat on a nearby log and closed her eyes. Her hands folded nearly in her lap as she let the unnatural wind pass through her hair. [break][break] For some reason, this part of the forest seemed oddly cold. A part of her wondered if it would be nice to enjoy sustenance in the light of the fire. She noticed the pots nearby. Would it be hard to boil some water? Gau said something about certain flowers too... [break][break] The willow wisps, once more, seemed to touch on her longing. They formed illusory shapes of the other genomes and some even black mages. Each figure taking their seat around the fire. And yet, just beyond the edge of the village... [break][break] Mikoto turned her indifferent eyes to the shadows that lay just beyond. [break][break] Was something there watching her? Did they need something?
The roads of this world twisted and turned, each leading down a new path that further made little to no sense. The landscapes changed, from cold to warm, from rainy to dry, from arid to humid. Nero had explored bits and pieces of the world at a time, peering through the darkness for as far as he could stretch its power. No, he did not need to travel on his own two feet -- not when he had the energy.
However, it was nigh impossible to tell where he may end up. He knew how to return to Sonora, to his meager, dilapidated, freezing cell of a room, but the Tsviet had little control of where else he could go. He remembered the “path” to the oasis in the desert, having spent enough time there. He could construct a way to the Divider, if he were close enough, but that never panned out. Instead, curious and wanting to take his mind off of anything, everything, oh, make it stop, oh, Weiss, please please make it stop--, Nero pushed the darkness forth through the world and pushed himself through.
What opened itself to him was a forest. Dark and dim, the only light came from nearby, floating lights. As one came too close, it soon bobbed out of the way, avoiding him. Nero peered at the curious things, glowing, red eyes hidden behind a mess of dark hair, breathing steadily as he clung to the nearby tree he’d appeared next to. Traveling so far, even with his power, took a lot of energy. But, he appeared to be alone.
Alone, in the quiet.
For a forest, it was eerily silent. The Tsviet turned his ear to the trees, hearing barely a rustle. The air was still, stagnant. The ground was covered in plant life, but it seemed strange. Foreign. Like the color was slightly off, or the height was wrong, something. The little lights floating about continued to avoid Nero as he released his death grip on the tree and took a curious, cautious step forward. The world did not stir around him. If anything, the forest hardly seemed to care he was there.
Nero removed his overcoat, shoving it within the void to make it quickly disappear. The air around him wasn’t cold, but nor was it warm. Nothing about his surroundings screamed welcoming, but he wasn’t there to find anything of the sort. He was there to explore. To take his mind off of his wandering thoughts and choking questions. He stepped, one boot after the other, through the brush and listened carefully for any other sign of life other than the echoes of his own steps. Yet, nothing immediately came. As Nero walked along, he found a small, abandoned path, and took his walk to it.
The shadows of the trees did not frighten him. The lack of light felt comforting. A thick mist seemed to cover the ground in waves, obscuring his vision from time to time. But, as Nero moved forward, he felt … he felt … well, nothing. An improvement from before. There were no other souls about, unless the little twinkling lights counted, and even they seemed to desire to leave him be.
However, a light interrupted the peace of the dark. The Sable squinted, noticing the dancing of orange and red hues in the distance. A fire. The familiar smell of smoke soon filled the air.
Ah, so there was life in the silent forest.
Nero followed the path to what appeared to be some sort of small village. He stayed back in the trees, only peering out from behind the bark, curious. Still, his enhanced senses picked up very few sounds. Only that of the fire crackling, and a calm, consistent breath. The Tsviet followed the darkened tree line, taking in the sight of the village. There were plenty of homes, and things abandoned outside of them, but no … people. No footsteps other than his own near-silent ones. No talking.
Soon, the fire came into sight. Seated at the fire appeared to be a … girl, perhaps. Nero observed silently, curious as the strange lights took on shapes and sat around the fire, as if they were true beings. Clearly illusions, with no feeling in their eyes or bodies. Like his own clones he could form from the darkness.
The girl seated at the fire, unexpectedly, turned to face in his direction. Nero peered back, narrowing his eyes at her. Had she seen him, somehow? Sensed him? He remained in the darkness for a few moments, considering his options. The Tsviet could easily just leave, find another path, keep to himself. There was no reason to engage … other than simple curiosity. Nero threaded his fingers together as he thought over what he wanted to do. He began to pinch his own skin, sinking a tooth into his bottom lip. Ah, ah, the thoughts were weeding their way back into his mind.
Perhaps, conversation wouldn’t hurt. This once.
And if he tired of her he could -- he could -- toss her into the abyss, make it all disappear, just like everything, everyone else, the screams, aha--
Nero forced himself out of the woods. One step at a time, measured and lengthy. He never removed his eyes from the girl as he did so, moving his hand only to straighten his shirt. He’d left his tie and suit jacket behind for his venture, dressed in his tight black slacks, black boots, and a white, button up shirt. He peered at the girl behind dark lashes, opening his mouth and finding he had an endless amount of things he could ask. He could say.
Humming through his chest, the Tsviet untwisted his tongue, his fairly disinterested gaze flickering from her to the fire and back, “Did you sense me, girl?”
[attr=class,upperlyric] The Dreams in the Witch House
[attr=class,bottomlyric] Then the traveler in the dark [break] Thanks you for your little spark
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Let's have awkward nightmare introductions right before the fun @lala3
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Big teal eyes watched him unblinking as she caught sight of only a pale red glow. She studied it fascinatedly, much like prey to an anglerfish's bobbing light. It reminded her of something didn’t it? That stare continued to watch, as he finally made his way out of the trees and to her. So those red glowing eyes did perceive her. He was different from the others she saw, though she could not tell why. Was it because he dressed so dark? Was it the way he moved? Or because she had yet to see eyes glow like his. [break][break] Silently, she waited for him to speak first. A very distinct silence filled the air between him, before he finally unfurled his tongue. His question was odd to her. “No. You are no genome.” She simply bluntly stated, shaking her head. He had no psychic essence ingrained in him for her to sense. She had been unmoving and a cold wind passed between them. Perhaps he meant how she knew he was there. “Your eyes...” She said softly, her gaze still unwavering. “Glow like the souls of Terra.” That’s what it had reminded her of. The souls Garland watched over and the one that beat in his mechanical chest. [break][break] “Did you come to keep me company like the others?” It was obvious the ‘others’ were the illusory spirits of the woods. They seemed to want to play with her, though they sometimes get too rough. Some of them were already clearing away from Nero. She thought they take the shape of what would please her. She continued, wondering if they bothered him. Kuja told her to ignore them and they would leave her alone. But she enjoyed their company well enough. [break][break] Then, another question came to her mind. “Or returning home?” Was she intruding on his space? [break][break] Then without explaining what she was doing, she quietly stood up and turned away. She took the pot and wondered for a moment. Where was there water here? “A stream?” She asked Nero though the ghosts were already crowding around her again. She closed an eye as one brushed her temple, and she could feel its pain. But she waited for his response.
For Nero, that was an odd thing. Nearly every being he encountered had some sort of reaction to his presence. All living things had an innate fear of death, something he was born practically cloaked in. A chill up the spine, an instinct that told them run … People had described the senses they felt when the Sable Tsviet approached them. Even Weiss, when they were young, had a natural aversion to him. Instinct that told him, stay away to preserve your life.
She’d simply seen his glowing eyes in the darkness. Nero sharpened his gaze, staring down at the strange girl, scrutinizing her every too-calm movement. He stepped closer to her lit fire and strange, ghostly friends. The illusions gave him space, avoiding him like any sane being would. Interesting, how they seemed to sense the danger surrounding him, but the girl did not. He paused as he drew closer to the fire, beginning to feel it’s pleasant heat seep into his clothing.
“No one lives here,” Nero muttered in response to her questions, taking a glance over the abandoned village. In fact, he’d hardly seen any other living beings in the forest at all. Something that didn’t really bother him, nor did it seem to bother the strange girl with her ghostly pals. The girl was already on the move though, seemingly uninterested in his response to her. The Tsviet watched her as she stood and turned her back on him, “I’m not an illusion, like they are. I simply came here to clear my head.”
The girl picked up a pot, dirty and worn with time, turning it over in her fingers. She absent-mindedly asked him about a stream. Did she need water? Nero approached her directly, leaves crunching under his boots. The ghosts crowding around the girl withdrew as he drew closer, and Nero reached out to pluck the pot from her small hands.
“Why are you here?” Curiosity laced his otherwise bored tone as he cocked his head at the strange girl, “Tell me, and I’ll get water for you.”
THEN THE TRAVELER IN THE DARK [break] THANKS YOU FOR YOUR LITTLE SPARk
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@lala3 [break] Lol. Clearing heads is scary.
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She could see it in his eyes. The same response humans gave her for being herself. It seemed her blank reactions and lack of reactions left them unnerved. And Mikoto was left in a timeless village that slept until life and death was no longer a true concept for them. And what had Garland once said “Life is but death itself.” They were one and the same. She neither feared it nor revered it. It was simply an occurrence.
[break][break] She took note of the ghosts cowering from him. Even they seemed to not want to go into oblivion. She could sense their fear in colors and shapes. She found it rather curious. Would oblivion not absolve them of their predicament? When Terra was going down, she did not resist falling with it. Only Zidane seemed to pull her out of that predicament.
[break][break] As he glared down at her, she simply looked up at him curiously. Was she bothering him somehow? As she held her pot, she studied him for a moment. “Clear your head?” It conjured visions of extracting the innards of the cranium. “What do you mean?” She looked down into the empty void of the pot.
[break][break] Then, her pot was snatched from her and she was staring at her empty hands. Her tail fluffed at the sudden intrusion. She took a step back and creased her brow at him. “Why am I here?” She repeated, as if unsure herself. She supposed it worked to her benefit to respond. “My predecessor needed a break from me.”
[break][break] Her thoughts now on him, the ghost created a pale imitation of him. He stood behind her with a slight frown and arms crossed. She already missed him so, and her near monotone and low tail seemed to hint at it. She looked up over her shoulder at him and wished she could get close enough to braid his hair and fluff his tail. Perhaps, she could here.
[break][break] “City people are overwhelming and noisy.” Her pessimism was clear. For a genome that lived in such solitude, the city was too much for extended periods of time. “It is more pleasant here.” That was her answer. She looked up at him expectantly, waiting for him to get her water now.
Nero chose to ignore the girl’s question. Surely she wasn’t actually questioning what clearing your head meant. It was a common enough phrase, even for someone who’d been raised in an underground hell hole like he had. However, seeing her tail fluff up in agitation brought a smirk to his lips. It was such a small sign, the crease in her brow, the twitch of her tail (how many people in this world had tails, anyway?), that broke the facade that she was simply some shell.
She wasn’t a lifeless ghost, like the beings she’d surrounded herself with.
The Tsviet tilted his head at the girl’s reply. Unlike him, she wasn’t here to find peace for herself, then. She’d been chased off by her predecessor, as she called him. Nero thumbed over the teapot in his hands as a minor distraction. How would it have felt if Weiss had sent him away? Terrible, obviously, and that was why it had hardly happened in their years together. When they were much younger, yes, Weiss had pushed him away, but now … Well, now Weiss was nowhere to be seen, but that was an ache to be ignored for the time being.
The girl was lost in thought, and the spirits seemed to resonate with her, changing shape. The spirit bobbed and ebbed before taking a final form -- and Nero had to stop himself from dropping the pot out of shock. Staring back at him was a translucent form of a man he knew, someone he knew well. The feathered hair, the tail, complete with the frown Nero knew well.
Kuja was the one she had been with?
Thankfully, the girl seemed distracted enough in the apparition for a moment to allow the Sable to collect himself. He crammed the strange feelings that bubbled up during that moment of shock deep down and replaced his more neutral expression. It was a ticking time bomb, Nero knew. He was no good at hiding things, especially anything that resonated with his ever-fluctuating emotional state.
“I see,” was his measured response, as the girl turned her attention back to him. As promised, he owed her a kettle of water. She was no longer just a simple curiosity, but now a complex one worth investigating further. Nero stepped back a few paces, allowing the void to consume him. He recalled passing a stream on his way to that very spot, but there was no reason to backtrack so far on his feet. The Tsviet quickly passed through his darkness, appearing some far distance away, and bent down to the stream at his feet.
The kettle needed a bit of a wash, he supposed. He rinsed it out a few times, before finally filling it with water. This way, at least, if she offered him some concoction it wouldn’t be brimming with silt. Nero turned, passing back through the void and re-appearing in the very spot in front of the girl he’d vanished from. He offered the pot back to the girl, his tattooed hands still wet from the stream.
“I hate noise, too,” Nero mumbled in response to the girl’s earlier statement, “I like things dark and quiet, like this place.”
His eyes flickered to the Kuja spirit, still hanging around the girl. He tried not to narrow his eyes at it. It made him feel … uncomfortable.
[attr=class,upperlyric] The Dreams in the Witch House
[attr=class,bottomlyric] THEN THE TRAVELER IN THE DARK[break] THANKS YOU FOR YOUR LITTLE SPARK.
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Lol. Mikoto has lots of weird thoughts. @lala3
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[attr=class,bulk] He was not happy. It was the same measured sharp responses she got from Zidane when she showed him Bran Bal. And the displeasure was apparent enough, that when he stepped away into the darkness, she thought she drove him away. Her tail hung low and the tip flicked nervously. She somehow upset Kuja without knowing what she did wrong too and she didn’t like the feeling. [break][break] Though she felt less guilt about it with a stranger. [break][break] He disappeared into thin air and it was quite curious to her. She stepped forward to study this waft of shadows. Kuja and Garland could conjure and send objects at their will. But to see someone else just step through shadows and disappear… [break][break] Was he like the ghosts in the woods? Blinking in and out of existence at different points? [break][break] Though the curious genome nearly found herself planted into his chest. Her blank stare hardly the time to register what happened when he offered the filled pot. She stupidly took it in both hands, staring down at. How did he travel such a distance in a small span of time? [break][break] Then he spoke, shaking the shock from her. She moved closer to the fire and hung the kettle to let the water boil. She walked to one of the warped, wooden tables that sat infront of a nearby hut. She opened a glass jar and sniffed it. Chamomile. She wondered what effects it had. Though she knew it was safe to ingest thanks to some woodland friends. [break][break] She brought the jar and some worn cups for them. “Dark and quiet…” Her eyes lifted to the sky as she finally sat on one of the stumps. “Like the dark sky with the waxing and waning of the moon, the respiration of the planets... Motion in stillness, stillness in motion…” Words taught to every genome watching the life crystal so closely. The wind blew and she breathed in the forest as if she could feel it breathing and appreciated it. As if she could feel the earth beneath her feet spin on its axis. It felt so wonderful and it could be enjoyed only outside the distractions humanity provided for themselves. [break][break] What was it she felt? The souls flow as the planet turns... The flow of souls meant that a planet had life... A planet's shimmer is its breath, a sign of life-activity caused by the cycling of souls. [break][break] Ah...She felt so close to home. [break][break] Then, he asked the question that would never have been asked in her home. A name held no meaning there. “I was designated Mikoto.” [break][break] She opened her eyes to look at him after a heart beat. “If you like this place, then why are you not happy?” The illusory Kuja disappeared, as she thought of home once more. It was replaced by genomes that were so identical to her in appearance... Plus a tall imposing figure. The one who gave her a designation to serve her purpose. He was older, with a long white beard. Part man and mostly machine shrouded in a cloak. A red orb glew in his nearly hollowed chest, encased in spiny ribs. [break][break] The kettle started to rumble at the beginnings of its boilings. She poured a little into the cups to wash them. She filled them with the warm water and sprinkled chamomile into them. The warmth filled her fingers. It seemed she didn’t realize how cold it was. She handed one to Nero.
The girl was an odd one. Nero thought he understood odd people to an extent. After all, he was an odd person, who was raised surrounded by odd people. People with abilities not normal to other human beings. People bred to kill. They all lacked many differing things that were typical for people on the surface world. Some couldn’t read or write. Some knew nothing of empathy or love. Some had never seen the sun before. All strange people, living in a strange environment, never knowing how different they were until they got a glimpse of the surface world.
Nero wasn’t startled that the girl was so close to him. He reappeared in the same spot -- she simply must have been trying to figure out what he’d done or where he’d gone. She took the kettle and only moved once he’d spoken, perhaps surprised. Nero studied her as she left his presence, watching as she moved back toward the fire. She moved mechanically, without any sway or swagger. Like a grunt without a personality.
The Tsviet only stepped closer as the girl spoke, waxing something akin to poetry into the empty air between them. Again, he sent a narrow eyed stare toward the Kuja-spirit, the heat produced by the fire finally touching his fingertips as he drew closer. The girl with the tail placed a jar of something herbaceous and a few cups nearby for them. Nero crossed his arms over his chest -- would she really expect him to drink something from a stranger?
Nero continued to haunt the fireside from a distance as the girl finally gave him a name. Mikoto. Designated was an odd way to put it, but it was something he understood. He, too, had a name designated to him. A name and eventually a title. Still, it seemed she wished to make a point by saying such a thing. However, despite her seemingly blank and stoic nature, her next question was an arrow designed specifically to lodge within his heart.
Why are you not happy?
The temptation to snarl at her for daring to know him in any capacity roared within him, but Nero stilled his features. The spirits around the girl were changing shape again, transforming into other creatures that looked near-identical to her. Aside from one figure, tall and shrouded, imposing. If he’d taken merely a glance at it, Nero may have mistaken it for a Restrictor without a helmet. Whatever it was, the girl didn’t seem terrified of it.
Mikoto offered him a cup, and Nero stared down at her for a moment, considering what to do. He felt … exhausted. Too tired to fight with a girl who seemed more robotic than emotional. How annoying, that she seemed to be his polar opposite. Nero took the cup and simply held it, letting the warmth soak into his skin. He stared down at the cup and the floating pieces within it. The smell reminded him of flowers; something rare and unattainable.
“ … I miss my brother,” the words left Nero before he could catch them, a tremble in his voice he couldn’t stop, “It’s been years, and I haven’t found him here. He’s all I have ever had, and I refuse to forget him, but it … keeps me up at night, I suppose.”
Whenever he slept, anyway, which wasn’t too often. Nero was often kept up by the sounds of the void, even when he did wish for rest. Between the screams of the dark, and the non-stop train of thought about Weiss, the Sable hardly found true sleep.
Biting down the urge to cry you’ve done plenty of that, Weiss won’t come to you when you’re weak, stop it stop it stop it, Nero turned a critical eye to Mikoto, “You don’t seem happy yourself.”
[attr=class,upperlyric] The Dreams in the Witch House
[attr=class,bottomlyric] THEN THE TRAVELER IN THE DARK [break] THANKS YOU FOR YOUR LITTLE SPARK
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Oh no. Crying genome child who has overwhelming sisterly feelings, but doesn't understand brothers at all. @lala3
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[attr=class,bulk] There was a long silence from the other. He didn’t drink. Simply, he stared at her concoction. He had no reason to trust her, just as she had no reason to provide for him. It simply felt in her nature to nurture those near her. She took a sip of her chamomile tea. It was still weak, but the floral scent was calming. She looked up from it when he spoke again, her wide deep teal eyes staring at him. She took a seat and listened to him. [break][break] “Is a brother really that precious?” Zidane had called himself her brother. Garland had used the term to put his connection to Kuja in simple Gaian terms for him. But she did not understand its significance to the level used in this world. Only that her genes were similar to her predecessor. [break][break] But she supposed in a way she could understand. She had not found Zidane and it bothered her. Garland charged her to be his guide and aid. And if he would not offer himself to his home, she was to replace him. But now, she simply wished to be by his side. To be by Kuja’s side too. [break][break]
“I am...not happy?” She scrunched her brow and stared at her reflection in her drink. At his mention of her feelings, there was a sudden rustling in the woods as dark shadows began to rush along the outskirts of the village. Brush parted. Bark snapped. A roaring wind blew through. Then, stillness again. [break][break] White, pupiless eyes, of terribly tall and long shadows crept and moved abnormally. Simply watching at the edge of the fire’s shadow now, obviously agitated. Their eyes bore into Nero. [break][break] There was a pause and she decided to speak more on it. She didn’t seem bothered by the shadowy apparitions that hissed now. It seemed she was used to them. “Everyone wants me to be ‘human’, but I am a ‘genome’. Kuja is the only one that lets me ‘be’. He understands my origin. He is my origin. Without him, I would simply be a vessel of Terra. He burned it all and gave me a chance to find a true purpose.” His fire allowed her to have her own will. She did not need to burn worlds any longer. She no longer had to feel empty among the other vessels. She no longer had to offer herself to a master. [break][break] The genomes and Garland behind her suddenly went up in flames and vanished. Only Kuja’s ghost stood behind her now. Beautiful and glowing in the firelight. He was strong and unique. He was so different from her and she admired it greatly. Though the shadows around them grew darker with more silver-white eyes. [break][break] She found she was trembling a little, even if her face had not changed in expression much. “I saw the looks humans give him. The same you gave his image.” She felt tears flood her eyes and overflow. Just like that night where the city overwhelmed her. “I want to stay by his side and protect him. But I always seem to remind him of something painful. He always feels so far away, even though he is so near.” Even though they could touch each other’s souls and always find the other. Her cheeks were wet. She took another sip of her tea. The warmth filled her chest. She would have never felt any of this on Terra. She was changing and she couldn’t understand any of it. She didn’t know how to resolve her feelings, nor what she was doing wrong with her predecessor.
Such a question could draw a horrific sob from Nero, were he not preoccupied by his mass of swirling thoughts and feelings, conflicting. If only there were words to express what Weiss meant to him. He could run his vocabulary into the ground, he could write an epic, yet none of it would ever come close to what Weiss was, what their love was. It was the stuff of legends, perhaps. An emotion only the two of them could feel, an expression that existed solely for them.
The strange, expressionless girl -- Mikoto -- could never understand.
But, the girl seemed to be considering her own emotions. Nero watched, curious, as she stared deeply into the old cup in her hands. Then, without warning, there was sound. The Tsviet turned, tossing his cup aside as the forest seemed to react to her admission. His red eyes caught sight of shadows moving along the edges of the trees around them, seeming to bring the very wind along with them.
Nero bristled. How dare this landscape attempt to intimidate him with his own power. The shadows of the forest rose higher and higher, shapeless, moving like broken marionettes. Were he not so offended, the Sable might have laughed. The abnormal movements, the attempt to threaten, to cause fear. He was a child of the dark -- the screams of those he killed echoed in his skull day and night. He glared back at the shadows, his own darkness seeping on the ground around him, sparkling with a threatening power.
If they approached him, he would consume them. There was no greater terror in the dark than he.
Mikoto began to speak, clearly unbothered by the angry shadows. Nero hesitated, only for a moment, to take his eyes off of them to focus on her. He was confident in his abilities to strike before they could, should it come to that. The Tsviet turned his full attention to the girl, to the strange words she spoke. Parts of it made no sense to him, but terms, he could understand. Genome. Human. Nero crossed his arms over his chest, digging his fingers into his ribcage.
At the very least, he knew what it felt like to want to be one thing, while everyone else in the world wanted you to be another. He was a monster -- born a monster, a killing machine. He didn’t desire to be that, yet he had no word for what he wanted to be. He wanted to be loved by Weiss. That was all. All he ever wanted.
Was Kuja … that, for Mikoto? The only one that let her be. Nero tightened his grip around himself, feeling the cracks in his heart as he thought deeper of Weiss. The only one to ever love him. The only one to ever embrace what he was. To tell him he was perfect. To treat him as anything other than a monster.
It hurts …
The ghosts behind Mikoto vanished, leaving only the spirit of Kuja behind. Nero looked to it once more, warily. Kuja … he had such complicated feelings about. The mage had saved his life, and had helped to grant him more freedom from Shinra. Yet, Nero grew disillusioned with him -- realized he was trying to use Kuja as a replacement for Weiss. It made him feel sick at his stomach. He had been weak, so weak, to ever consider following Kuja to the ends of the world.
It was easier to blame Kuja than it was to blame himself.
Now the girl was trembling as she spoke about him. Her voice shook. Typically, it was a reaction Nero may have taken delight in -- watching another suffer. But her words shook him, down to his very core. The Tsviet parted his lips, searching for words, but nothing came. His fingers dug deeper into his sides as his hands shook, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts--.
Tears escaped her eyelashes, running down her cheeks. Nero hesitated, before moving forward, slowly, one step at a time. Leaves crunched under his boots as he left his trailing, dark power behind -- forgotten. He bent down in front of Mikoto and stared at her with large, shocked eyes. Nero released his arms from around his torso, one hand curling around his knee while the other stretched outward, gently touching the tears on Mikoto’s cheek.
Wet, warm tears. Nero ran his thumb across the girl's cheek, wiping the wetness away as he did so. His own lips trembled. It hurts so much, it hurts!.
“You love him…,” the words came out in a pained, shaky whisper. Nero tilted his head, blinking as his vision clouded with tears, “You love him, like I love my brother.”
The Sable withdrew his hand from her face, and tooka seat next to her. He seemed … mystified, unable to take his gaze off of her. Mikoto, it seemed, understood his pain. What it felt like to love someone with all of your being and more, yet feeling like you’ll never deserve them. You’ll never be able to stand by their side forever, to protect them. In Nero’s awful, terrible memories, he saw Weiss, dear Weiss, as the virus from the Restrictor’s control chip destroyed him. Took his very life away. He watched as his brother suffered a fate that should have been his to bear.
“... I know Kuja,” Nero finally sighed, as the tears rolled down his own cheeks, unrestrained, “He helped me, and so I served him for a time. He reminded me of my brother, Weiss. But I … we…”.
There was no explanation he could give her that could explain why he felt the way he did, “I was weak.”
His hands balled up into fists over his knees, shaking. If Weiss ever knew, ever found out what he did, would he ever welcome his brother back into his arms? Could he? Nero bit back a sob, suddenly thrusting his hands into his hair and pulling desperately at the thick, black strands to feel something else to distract him from this pain.
“Weiss is everything to me,” Nero choked out between tears, as the grief reared its ugly head before him, “I’ve been so alone without him. It hurts, more than anything ever has before. I would give anything to be by his side again…”.
Nero paused a moment, collecting his breath. Always emotional, always unstable. If Weiss could see him now, what would he think? Would he think him weak, or would he wrap Nero into a strong, familiar hug, and reassure him?
What Nero would sacrifice to know the answer.
The Tsviet looked back to Mikoto, the tears beginning to stem their flow naturally, his cheeks red, “Kuja … is a fool, if he does not cherish you with every fibre of his being. He should never have let you leave his side.”
